


Lessons in Respect

by Sed



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"He should speak to you with greater respect."</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"Some day, I'll let you teach him that lesson..."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in Respect

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place some time between _Favour the Bold_ and _Sacrifice of Angels_.
> 
> This may receive additional chapters depending on how I feel about it and how well it's received (as in, does anyone even really want to read about these three in this setting). In which case I will also probably change its rating. For now it will stay one chapter tagged as mature for very obvious innuendo and foreshadowing.

Weyoun entered Dukat’s dimly lit quarters, his already-poor vision even more limited than usual in the low artificial light. It reminded him of the subdued darkness found on Cardassian vessels; ships he steadfastly avoided unless his presence was an absolute necessity. The Cardassian-built station wasn’t much better, but the Federation personnel had at least raised the light levels during their stay.  
  
As his eyes slowly adjusted, he spied Dukat sitting—lounging, really—upon a divan, one arm slung over the side as he sipped heavily from a glass of kanar he held in the other hand.  
  
“I do hope you have a worthwhile reason for summoning me to your quarters, Dukat,” Weyoun drawled slowly, feigning disinterest. In truth, he was exceptionally curious to know what Dukat was up to. “My time is not as,” he paused, “disposable… as yours.”  
  
“Of course,” Dukat replied with an overly-pleasant smile. No doubt as forced and artificial as Weyoun’s. Without bothering to offer any further explanation for his late-night summons, he threw back the last of the kanar, and with his free hand gestured to Weyoun—or, as it turned out, behind him.  
  
A grasping hand suddenly seized Weyoun from behind, sliding around under his arm along his torso, coming to a stop in the center of his chest. Searching fingers found their way into the gap beneath the front of his jacket. A much larger body pressed against his back as a second hand slipped around his waist and pulled him back tight against the armored chest of what was obviously a Cardassian. Weyoun recognized the unmistakable stench of kanar—more than Dukat’s small glass could account for when taking into account the Vorta’s imprecise sense of smell, and clearly wafting from the breath of whomever stood behind him. A low chuckle quickly revealed the identity of his would-be captor, and Weyoun rolled his eyes. “I see you’ve invited Damar to this little impromptu gathering,” he observed dryly.  
  
“Don’t be so quick to make assumptions,” Damar breathed in his ear. “It was my idea.”  
  
“A fact which fills me with the utmost confidence as to its merit, believe me.” Weyoun moved to dislodge the Cardassian’s hands, but they held firm. Thrashing to free himself from Damar’s grip would undoubtedly give the two Cardassians no small amount of pleasure to witness, and prove entirely futile, so Weyoun decided against it. He would discover their intentions through patience, instead. The worst they could do was kill him—an utterly pointless act that would only result in the hasty creation of another clone to take his place, followed by Dukat and Damar’s immediate execution. He had little to fear but an evening of hollow boasts and ineffectual posturing. Although, Damar’s hands were making him _very_ uncomfortable.  
  
“ _Confidence_ isn’t your problem, Weyoun,” Dukat laughed knowingly. An answering chuckle from Damar was Weyoun’s first and only warning before a set of surprisingly warm, yet unsurprisingly rough lips brushed the back of his neck, just above his collar. He jumped and attempted to turn and face the Cardassian, but another squeeze from Damar’s powerful arms stopped him.  
  
With outrage and indignation failing him, Weyoun turned to arrogant disdain—something with which he knew Cardassians were very familiar. He laughed, dismissing the violation with a disgusted sneer. “Are you really so delusional that you believe I desire any sort of… _intimacy_ with you?” He directed the question over his shoulder to Damar, then added for Dukat’s benefit, “Or you?”  
  
Rather than anger, Dukat returned the question with a carefully aimed attack of his own. “Our apologies, Weyoun. We would have sought someone more to your liking, but it seems Constable Odo was unavailable.”  
  
Weyoun’s eyes flew wide and his already pale skin blanched in humiliation. He could see from Dukat’s reaction that his feelings on the subject were embarrassingly clear. “I would never—” he stammered.  
  
“Then you and Odo have that much in common, at least,” Dukat muttered. He lifted himself from the divan and sauntered over to where Damar and the Vorta stood. When he was close enough for Weyoun to smell the alcohol on his breath as well, he leaned down and whispered, “It looks like you’ll have to settle for _us_ , instead.”  



End file.
